


Attic Affair

by Adry1412



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 30's Setting, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Domestic Violence, Extramarital Affairs, Ghosts?, M/M, Murder, Secret Affair, Secret lover living in the attic, Smut, Willing Sex Slave!Daryl, bottom!daryl, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adry1412/pseuds/Adry1412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yes, it must be admitted fiction has been outdone again."<br/>Based on the story of Dolly Oesterreich and her "bat man" and their strange sex scandal.<br/>---<br/>Rick is having an extramarital affair that Shane is unaware of. What happens when the ghost Shane claims to hear in the attic turns out to not be a specter, but the man Rick has fallen in love with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attic Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie this was a dousey. I hope you guys like it!!

He swears he's losing his mind.  
The creaking of the attic floorboards have him awake, hands digging into the plush armchair in his study. His ears are trained on it, that whine of floorboards that only someone, or something, can make when they try to walk softly. He shudders remembering the shadows that rush around corners and occasionally block the sliver of hallway light that bleeds in from under the doorway.  
He's shaking, bringing his bourbon to his lips to take the edge off his spinning mind. He sighs as the warm liquid burns his throat in that all to familiar way that rips it's way down to his stomach and calms his frayed nerves.  
He won't step foot in that attic, not with those eerie noises, and if that makes him a coward than so be it. But if there's one thing Shane is certain of, is that there is a ghost in the old Savannah home that he shares with his husband Rick. So he takes another drink before stumbling back to their bedroom, knowing Rick has long been asleep on the plush martial bed.

\---  
Rick's buzzing in the morning when he watches Shane prepare his suitcase. A week away to Atlanta for business while the black haired man is left to manage the old plantation house.  
A quick kiss and Shane is off, his slick black Cadillac rushing down the dirt road and away from their "haunted" home.

He runs up the stairs, two at a time to the small door Shane will never venture through.  
"I thought he'd never leave."

"You can say that again."

A long kiss, Rick's hands dancing down a trim waist and grope at the plump ass it leads too. Hands in his hair, tugging enough to make him hiss as a skilled mouth works over his throat, tongue sliding over his Adam's apple.  
He pushes the man down, falling on top of him onto the small twin sized bed, both of them barely fitting as they work together. Clothes is left in a heap on the floor as the mousey man moans, begging for more and running thin fingers over the wide expand of Rick's back. It's like coming home, playing the brown haired man's body like an instrument, knowing where to touch and what to do to make the young man shout and beg.  
It's intoxicating, when Rick works himself deeper and deeper and the thrill of the interaction warming his spine and cheeks. He watches those blue eyes, wide in the darkness of the small, hidden room.  
"Ooh, Daryl."

\---  
Shane rests in the hotel, legs stretched in front of him as he relaxes for the first time in what feels like years. The shadows under the doorway are simply the other patrons or house keepers, not some specter who's haunts his very consciousness as well as his hallways and attic.  
He enjoys his drink, something warm to fill his stomach and clear his head, before he reaches for the phone, intending to call home and alert his husband to his safe arrival.

\---  
The phone's ring pierces the room, Rick grumbling as he untangles himself from Daryl's limbs. The brown haired man giggles, pulling Rick in for a peck before pushing him to the edge of the bed and towards the phone.  
Rick pants, "Hello?"

"Hey sweetheart, I'm in Atlanta."

"Ooh, hi Shane."  
A teasing hand runs up Rick's spine, it's fingertips causing goosebumps in their wake. He switches the phone to his other ear and turns to pinch Daryl's side, the man gasping before giggling.

"Is someone there with you?"

"What? No no! That's me, sorry, I'm reading a pulp fiction and it's quite interesting."

Rick hears Shane sigh, "I really wish you wouldn't read those filthy things. God, what ever happened to good, wholesome papers?"

"Alright, Shane, whatever you say. I'll talk to you later."

"I love you, Rick."

\---  
Shane hears the phone click, stares at the piece of plastic as the dial tone hummed quietly.  
Rick mustn't've heard him, must've been too interested in that filthy zine. He doesn't understand it, the appeal for all that gore and sex and violence. Sure, they've messed around, sex comes naturally with marriage, but never to the extent of those magazines Rick always has his nose buried in. He sighs, smiling at the fond memory of his husband reading so intensely that he gets that sweet wrinkle on his forehead.  
Resting back he settles in for bed, mind floating with thoughts of his beloved husband.

\---  
"That was fucking close, Daryl. What were you thinking??"

"Relax, Rick, he won't find out." Thin lips wrapped around his cigarette, "He's too stupid to find out. Stills believes I'm a ghost, don't he?"

Rick shakes his head, smiling, as he takes in Daryl's appearance. This is when he looks the best, nothing but bare skin and tousled hair, some strands sticking out haphazardly. His neck is decorated with love bites, the red and purple makes standing stark against his porcelain skin.  
"You're too much sometimes, you know that?"

The man blows out a smokey breath, "Yeah, I know. But you love it!"

Rick smirks, taking the cigarette from his lover's mouth and propping it on the edge of the ashtray as he rolls to climb onto of Daryl. "Ooh, I love it. And I love you."

Daryl giggles, taking hold of Rick's shoulders and wrapping his legs around his strong hips. He grinds upwards, hissing as their heated skin meets and Rick groans. "I love you too, Rick."

They rut together a moment as they kiss, tongues seeking each other out and Rick thinks back to their first encounter, when he had yelled at Shane to get someone to rid the attic of the squirrels that had snuck in during winter.

\---  
The constant scratching noises was winding thin on Rick's nerves. That, and the all consuming heat of the high summer sun, was making Rick irritable, brows furrowed as he placed the spiked lemonade glass to his neck, enjoying the coolness that radiates from the sweaty drink. He had yelled at Shane over the phone, neck covered in sweat, for his husband to call a goddamn exterminator. Shane's rapid apologies and promises of calling the in town specialist had come to an end when Rick slammed the phone down.  
Now he just had to wait.

And wait he did.  
Just when the scratching noises and cicadas buzzing had reached its limit, and Rick was about to snap, the doorbell rang.

"Hello, my name is Daryl and I was sent here by Horvath Exterminators. Are you Mr. Walsh?"

Rick smirked as he took in the young man in front of him, while leaning on the door frame. Dark brown hair, curled slightly over his ears, and bright blue eyes, wide and surrounded by heavy bags. His skin was tan from his days in customer's yards and homes. He was gorgeous, his mousey demeanor and attractive features making Rick hum in approval.

"Please, Mr. Walsh is my husband. Call me Rick. Would you care for a drink?"

He doesn't recall what had happened next, or how he had ended up in bed with this slender man bouncing on his cock, but he doesn't regret it.  
He has gripped Daryl's thin hips, lifting the light man up and down as he thrust into the tight heat. The man had been moaning loud, shouting Rick's name as he clawed at the married man's hairy chest, running his fingers through the thin hairs and over pointed nipples, making Rick hiss. He had shot his hips upward, earning a sharp gasp and shudder from Daryl before those gorgeous blue eyes had fluttered closed and he had clenched hard, his cock covering Rick's chest and stomach in cum.  
That had done it, Rick thrusting shallowly before painting the intoxicating mans insides. They had collapsed together, skin sweaty and sticky in the mid afternoon heat. The southern sun had filled the room in an orange hue while the men kissed lazily.

\---  
Daryl was pale now, skin almost translucent from the past year spent in the attic's darkness.  
It wasn't ideal, but it had worked. When the neighbors had poked their noses in, wondering who this mystery man that constantly visited Rick was, he had to put an end to it. Simply saying it was a cousin didn't seem to work and had raised more and more questions that Rick had not wanted to answer.

Daryl didn't have any family, mother having burned up long ago and father now recently, and thankfully, deceased. He had a brother, a mean fellow who spent more time in jail than out, but it hadn't mattered. This lack of connections had made it too easy, Daryl taking the abandoned attic as his new home where he'd spend his days reading, writing, and waiting for Rick to join him on the small bed.  
Daryl's introverted nature allowed him to cut his few worldly ties and let him easily adapt to the new secretive and submissive situation that was held within the confines of the dark attic. He had taken the role of Rick's sex slave quite animatedly, the long days of isolation building his want for the black haired man until he felt like he would burst without Rick's touch.

Rick's libido had also played a role in their relationship.  
Not being completely satisfied with the pathetic excuse for a sex life he shared with Shane, Rick had often turned towards outside sources to satisfy the itch just under his skin. He had craved more, wanting a partner that he could take whenever he please and as roughly as he pleased. He craved the feel of skin on skin and to be buried deep in the tight heat of another's body on a near daily basis. Shane hadn't allowed it, often wanting to keep his distant or to be the dominant partner.  
Whores and repair men hadn't satisfied Rick. He wanted something permanent, something close at hand and desperate for his touch.  
Daryl had been a god send.  
Small and lithe, quiet and mousey, and a desperate fiend for the fervent touch of Rick's hand. He had needed the isolation, the lack of control and pampering that came with being hidden away, as well as the frenzied attention his lover gave.

Not a lick of guilt occupies Rick's mind when he ruts into his secret lover. The thrill of being home alone with the meek pushes him forward with a confident smirks she reaches down to feel for Daryl's entrance. He gropes at the soft skin of his lover's ass and pushes a finger into the well prepped hole.  
Daryl moans, pushing down onto Rick's finger, mindlessly begging for more as Rick teases.

"Please, Rick.. I need you..."

The bearded man chuckles darkly, teeth showing in a wolf like manner, "Yeah? You need more?"

"Yes, please!"

It's fast, Rick's lining himself up and sinking deep into the moaning man. Every possible thought of his husband disappears when he feels the clenching, wet heat surround him.  
He's wild, starting an erratic pace while the pale man gasps and slips hasty pleads between panting breaths and shaking thighs. He grips Daryl's hips, leaving finger shaped bruises and an indent of the gold ring that rests on his left hand. Bony fingers scrap down his back, leaving red marks that'll disappear before sunrise. Daryl's loud, chasing every thrust of Rick's cock with a lewd moans that strikes like lightning down the older man's spine.  
They don't last long, over sensitive and unstable as they push towards the end. Hands grab and claw while mouths bite and suck, managing to meet in the middle to share a desperate kiss laced in love and dipped in poison. They spill together, in tune with every minute movement of the other's body. Sloppy kisses as shared as the cool night air draws them closer together on the bed that had been made for another.

\---  
Rick doesn't know how it happened.  
Nestled in a suburb just outside of New York City, their lives were suppose to get better. Shane had promised a new life, his whiskey stained breath rambling on about a house that wasn't haunted, that didn't have creaking floorboards or silent whispers in the middle of the night.  
Rick has agreed, a smirk planted on his plump lips when he sent Daryl up north a week before hand to situate himself in the new house's attic. It had been grand, large and talk with bigger rooms and tall ceilings. A maze of rooms, some so well hidden behind random twists that Daryl could have had his own space instead of the cramped darkness of the attic. But the boy has refused, shook his head and smiled wide when he stated that he loved the attic. The close quarters and drafty space made him comfortable, kept him sane with the promise of invisibility.

Rick had choked on a laugh when he and his husband had arrived a few days after his secret lover, Shane's wild smile falling when the attic door had creaked open quietly that first night. Shane's potential freedom from the regular hauntings was short lived with the disembodied noises that seem to fill their new home a few hundred miles away.

It must've been the stress.  
The never ending paperwork and long nights Shane had spent wide awake listening to the house "settle", as Rick said. The unnerving feeling of having been followed by whatever spirit seemed to torment the tan man and the humiliation when his husband laughed off his claims of the supernatural. Being so close to the big city, Shane's insurance business boomed. Long hours spent in the office while Daryl warmed Rick's bed.

\---  
The booze had gotten to Shane's head and had raised his hand to his husband.  
He had brought it down, striking Rick's face hard and fast in a quick strikes as Rick screamed out. He tried to fight back, landing a few punches of his own on the inebriated man. It didn't shake Shane, his body numb to Rick's blows and his anger feeding into his belly. Every restless night and insult from his husband fueled him, every creak and groan from the attic shook his bones as much as it forced his fist into his husband's face and ribs.  
Rick had fallen, crouched with his arms up to block the following blows... Except they didn't come.

Shane stood, wide eyed and pale, at the figure in front of him with his Colt Python in its thin hands.

"Daryl!"

It had happened so fast, Rick's scream drowned out by three loud shots and Shane found himself on the floor, the world losing color as his husband and the house's specter crouched at his sides.  
The image of Rick's tears and the ghost's wide eyes forever burned behind Shane's lids.

\---  
"Shit, shit, shit! Daryl why'd you do that?!"

"He was going to kill you!"

"Dammit, Daryl! What are we going to do?"

"I don't know! I'm sorry!"

Rick was pacing, hands in his hair and staring at his dead husband. "Ok.. Ok, I got an idea."

\---  
It shouldn't have worked.  
Yet it did.

With Rick locked in the closet, screaming and hollering for someone, anyone, to call the cops and Daryl hidden away in the closet, it had worked. With the front door busted through and Shane's expensive watch and gun tucked under Daryl bed, it had worked.  
There wasn't an investigation. The officers having believed Rick's story of a robber, seeing as there was no way he could've locked himself in the closet. The attic had remained untouched, Daryl staying quiet as a mouse until Rick was released from custody and returned to him.

They had held each other, matching blue eyes hidden by the darkness of the attic as they spoke in hushed whispers. Plans of their future, a home on the west coast where Daryl would share Rick's bed every night. He had been hesitant, too used to the cramped attic and wary of being out during the day, but ultimately agreed. Rick had said their lives were about to begin and he was inclined to believe his black haired lover when the words were so carefully, and lovingly, painted on his neck.  
So they left.

\---  
"You alright?"  
Rick plopped down, lifting his sunglasses.

"Yeah. Just.. not used to being in the sun so much."

The beach is empty except for them, only gulls and sea birds shouting nearby. Waves crash as Rick's holds his lover's hand, pulling the pale man in for a kiss under the dark colored umbrella. He ran his tongue over Daryl's bottom lip, his mouth opening obediently for Rick's tongue to swipe against his.  
It's short, Daryl pulling away, eyes cast downwards as he smiles and toys with the gold band on his thin finger. "I guess we made it, huh?"

Rick smirks, grabbing his husband's waist and pulling them flush together while Daryl giggles.

"Yep. We're home now. A million miles away, a cozy sea house, no squirrels or ghosts for miles." They laugh, eyes crinkled and locked in each other's. "Yep. I think we made it."

Rick can't help but smile when Daryl pulls him down with a simple, "Come here." and those sweet lips are on his. Yep. They're home and itch beneath his skin is finally gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!! :)


End file.
